Centuries
by Sonic Winchester
Summary: France's sister comes to visit, and things get wild from there! She's hiding something, though. Which country will win her over, and in turn, save her?
1. Chapter 1

It's a day like any other. The grass is green and perfectly manicured, the hedges are trimmed, and the flowers are blooming and fragrant. The sun is high, warming the air, accompanied by a soft breeze. Birds sing, the fountain out front gurgles. The relative silence is broken by a string of shouted profanity coming from within the palatial mansion, startling the birds into flight.

"No fair, Arthur! That was a cheap shot!"

"I say, for an American, you sure do fare poorly at these games."

Arthur and Alfred sit cross-legged on the floor in front of the massive flat-screen television, shoving each other as 'GAME OVER' flashes across the screen.

"Hey, guys, don't be so mean to each other…" Matthew says quietly from his corner of the room. No one hears him but Kumijiro, who giggles.

"Those two. It's not hard to tell they're related," Yao says, hand over his eyes in disgust. Kiku nods, watching the spectacle from his place on one of the sofas.

The rest of the countries are scattered around the large room, each attending to their own business. Feliciano is crawling around on all fours after Pookie with his rear up in the air, Ludwig is sitting at a table with a mound of paperwork before him, and Gilbert is fighting with Alfred over who gets to play next.

"Give the controller to the awesome me! I will show you how it is done!"

The only country not pre-occupied is Ivan, who is sitting off to the side, hands in his lap, looking around the room with his wide, violet eyes. He sighs.

"Attention, everyone. Lunch is served!" Francis announces, still wearing his 'French Kiss the Cook' apron, from the door to the adjoining dining room. He sighs, smiling and shaking his head. He'll just wait for the smell of the food to get to them. He disappears back into the kitchen.

The front door opens, but no one seems to notice it. It closes soon after, and the sound of high heels can be heard clicking across the marble of the front room.

"Francis, je suis à la maison! Je ai apporté une excellente bouteille de vin pour nous de partager!" A female voice calls from the front room, the sound of her voice approaching the living room.

The countries all stop what they're doing, turning their attention to the doorway.

"Whoa, who's that?" Alfred whispers.

"I'm not sure." Arthur says. "That was French. Matthew, what did she say?"

"Oh, um…" Matthew stammers, fixing his glasses nervously. "She said she has wine to share with Francis."

"Oh, my."

"Dude, I swear all that guy does is-"

"Francis?" She calls again, still in the other room. "Je ne peux pas dire en quelle année, cependant, parce que je ai laissé mes lunettes dans le salon."

The men all look back to Matthew, who blushes.

"She left her glasses in the…" He gulps, looking over at one of the end tables, upon which is perched a pair of reading glasses. "Living room."

Scrambling over one another, Alfred, Arthur, and Gilbert race to grab the glasses, ending with a few injuries and Gilbert standing victorious. He smirks and races over to the doorway.

"Here they are, meine schöne Dame! The awesome Prussia has saved the day!" He holds out the glasses, almost being knocked over by Francis.

"Gilbert," he hisses. "Get back in the other room. Now!"

Gilbert nods, taken aback, and hands the glasses to Francis before turning and speeding back to the couch.

"What'd she look like?" Alfred asks. "Is she hot?"

"Ja. She has not changed one bit…"

"Wha…?"

Gilbert looks up, met with the astounded stares of his compatriots.

The sound of heated arguing comes from the front room. Both Francis and the woman have raised their voices, and are spewing out French so fast that Matthew's head is spinning, trying to keep up.

Stomping into the room comes a tall, blonde young woman wearing four-inch heels. She's wearing a white jumpsuit and red cardigan, her long hair pulled up into a messy bun. She wears a scowl on her face that quickly turns to shock when she lays eyes on the room full of strangers.

"Oh, pardon! I didn't really think it was Francis' friends. I was thinking he had another of his…nevermind." She blushes, looking around the room. Francis walks in, holding his side and limping, and says something to her in a dialect of what is assumed to be French that even Matthew can't understand. She shoots back a venomous response, and then fixes her hair and smiles at the men.

"Francis, who is this?" Ludwig asks, now standing from where he was at the table. Francis sighs.

"This is my sister." He says, walking up to her. "She's been staying with me for a few weeks."

"S-sister?" Arthur stammers, quite taken aback.

"Dude…" Alfred says, adjusting his glasses.

"_Older _sister, merci." She says. "My full name is Genovefa, but you can all call me Gen. You all are my brother's colleagues, yes?"

"Ve! You are much more beautiful than I remember you, bella!" Feliciano dashes up, throwing his arms around her in a tight hug.

"Ma petite Italie! How big you've become!" Gen says, hugging him back. "You look so much like your Grandfather!"

Ludwig attempts to peel a blubbering Feliciano from her, blushing and muttering something in German under his breath.

"And you, mon amour!" She says, pulling him into the hug. "Look how big _you _have grown!"

Ludwig stiffens, looking slightly panicked.

"Um, I don't think we've met…" He says, confused.

"But of course we…" Gen stops, seeing Gilbert behind Ludwig waving his arms and shaking his head frantically. "Haven't. My mistake."

Gilbert relaxes, and a puzzled Ludwig finally manages to pull Feliciano off of her, and she walks over to Gilbert with arms open for a hug. He wraps his arms around her, hugging her very tight.

"It's good to see you, alter Freund," Gilbert whispers. "We will talk later."

"Oui." She whispers, nodding.

"Um…" Arthur clears his throat, standing up and offering her his hand. "I'm Arthur Kirkland."

"Britain, I remember you." Gen says, smiling brightly. "And I understand your family has grown."

"Yes, I suppose it has." Arthur says, pulling a still in-shock Alfred up to him. "This is my, um…this is Alfred Jones."

"America, yes, I remember you. You're much taller now." She says, chuckling at the blushing Alfred. "Oh, and Matthew!"

Gen steps over to Matthew, who by now is fidgeting uncomfortably. She whispers something to him in French, and he smiles nervously, nodding his head.

"And the rest of you…" She says, turning to look around the room again. "Please, do not be shy. I'm not as voracious as my brother."

Yao and Kiku introduce themselves with a bow, and Gen turns to look at Ivan with a smile.

"And you, my quiet friend. Who might you be?"

Slightly surprised at her friendly tone, Ivan stands, adjusts his scarf, and holds out his hand to her.

"I am Ivan Braginsky. Though I am tended to be called Russia." He says, smiling.

Gen smiles in return, looking into his violet eyes. She doesn't notice the looks everyone is giving her and Ivan – mainly the expression questioning her sanity.

"Well, please do not let me disrupt your video gaming. I will help my brother with lunch." With that, she steals away to the kitchen, ignoring the multiple pairs of eyes following her with a smirk on her lips.

"Dude…"

Once in the kitchen, Gen busies herself with dishing out portions onto the gleaming white porcelain plates set out on the counter. She hums softly, gracing each dish with her trained precision.

"You were not supposed to be home until tonight." Francis says, coming into the kitchen a bit red-faced and out of breath. He takes the plates from the counter and begins to place them on a dinner cart, avoiding her questioning gaze.

"Sorry, brother. There are only so many times that I can see the same film at the cinema." She says, her tone a bit more venomous than she meant it to be. Francis winces.

"Gen, it's not that I don't want you around my friends, mon amour, but…I don't want you around my friends." He says, sighing softly. "It's too much for even me to handle some times. I do not want the stress to get to you."

"I'm not as fragile as you make me out to be, Francis. But thank you." Gen places the last plate on the cart and hugs her brother from behind. He smiles wearily.

"Damn, this is wicked good!" Alfred exclaims, stuffing more food into his mouth. Arthur leans away from him, still managing to get bits of food flung at him by the rampaging American.

Gen is the last to enter the dining room, plate in hand. Most of the table seems pretty crowded, save for one end, where the chairs have all been scooted away from one seat in particular. In this chair sits Ivan. He looks down at his plate, picking at the food, which looks barely touched.

Jumping when a chair is dragged loudly towards him and a body is seated just a few inches away, he looks over sheepishly at Gen, who smiles and scoots her chair up to the table. Arthur almost chokes on his mouthful.

"I say, why on Earth is she sitting next to him?" He whispers to Alfred, who stops mid-chew to look down the table.

"Maybe she hasn't figured out how creepy he is, yet." Alfred whispers, loudly resuming his eating.

"I hope you don't mind me sitting here. Everywhere else looked pretty crowded." Gen says, cutting her meat delicately.

"No," is all that Ivan can manage. Had France put her up to this? He shakes his head to clear those thoughts.

"So, Genovefa, where it that you represent?" Yao asks, looking down the table at her. The rest of the countries follow his gaze. Francis frowns, a displeased huff escaping his lips.

"I, um…" Gen stammers, cheeks turning a bright shade of crimson. "I represent Gaul. Or, I used to."

"What the hell is a Gaul?" Alfred says, and Arthur smacks him upside the head.

"It's an area that used to cover parts of Europe. It's not a country anymore, so can we please just drop it?" Francis spits, chest heaving. He glares around the table.

Gen's breath catches in her throat, and she shoves her chair back, standing and rushing out of the room with her still-filled plate in hand.

"I'll get dessert." She says, voice wavering. Once in the kitchen, she slams her plate into the sink, gripping the counter on each side of it and leaning forward with her head down. She grits her teeth, but the tears overflow anyway, cascading down her cheeks and dripping to the floor in soft pitter-patters.

"Genovefa?" The voice comes from the doorway, and Gen's head snaps up, cheeks aflame. It's Gilbert, his plate in-hand and a sorrowful frown on his face. He pads across the kitchen floor, placing his plate on the counter and wrapping his arms around her shaking shoulders. "I know."

Gen melts into him, hugging his chest and soaking his shirt. Gilbird lands on her shoulder, nuzzling her cheek, and Gilbert, in turn, buries his face in her hair.

"Shhh…" He whispers, waiting as the sobs subside. Gen pulls back, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. She sniffs, looking thoroughly embarrassed.

"Thank you." She says, trying a smile. Gilbert returns it sadly, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"We will stick together, ja?" He says, squeezing her shoulder lightly.

"Ja," she whispers as Francis enters the room, fuming.

"That stupid Yankee brat! Was he dropped on his head as a child?" Francis curses under his breath and walks up to the two of them. "Is he annoying you, sister?"

"No, no. He was being very kind to me." Gen says, smiling at Gilbert. "Merci."

"Hey, I am the awesome Prussia. It is what I do!" Gilbird flits from Gen's shoulder to his master's head, chirping cheerfully.

"I should apologize to everyone. I must have made an awful scene." She says, fidgeting with the sleeve of her cardigan. She smiles reassuringly at her brother, then glances at Gilbert before re-entering the dining room. She gasps.

There was clearly some kind of tussle – the table is overturned, chairs are flung carelessly everywhere, and someone's lunch is splattered all over the wall. Feliciano is hiding in a corner, while Ludwig and Ivan are holding back Arthur from attacking Alfred, who is scrunched up against the wall, looking like he's seen a ghost. Everyone else is merely watching, save for Matthew, who is running around frantically waving his arms in the air.

Gen clears her throat, and the chaos comes to an immediate halt. Everyone looks at her.

"Please, forgive me. I suppose I overreacted a bit." She smiles, making eye contact with each of the countries. "Now, who wants a pastry?"


	2. Chapter 2

Dinner is winding down. The table and chairs have been righted, and the wall cleaned of all food splats. Dessert has been served, and the countries are enjoying some polite conversation in the dining room. Gen is occupying herself in the kitchen, taking care of the dishes. She often craves menial activities like this, finding that while her hands are busy, her mind is free to wander without distraction.

She hums to herself, an old folk song that's been stuck in her head. She sings a few words here and there, softly and under her breath. Taking a spatula out of the sink to dry it with a towel, she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, sensing movement over her shoulder. She jumps, spinning around with the spatula held out before her like a sword.

A very surprised Ivan stands before her, a stack of dirty dessert plates in his hands. The corners of his mouth turn down slightly, and his brow creases. He shifts uncomfortably, looking down at his feet.

"Oh, Ivan." She says, relaxing. "You scared me."

"Da," he sighs, placing the plates on the counter, "this I am used to."

"What do you mean by that?" Gen asks, genuinely curious. She sets down the spatula and hangs the dishtowel on her shoulder, leaning against the counter. Ivan looks at her with a questioning gaze, fidgeting with his scarf.

"The other countries," he says softly, looking at the floor. "They are afraid of me."

"Really? That's odd."

"Odd? What is odd about it?"

"It's hard to say. I believe you are kind. I can see it in your eyes." Gen blushes, catching a glimpse of shock in his expression.

"You are very kind, yourself, to be saying that." Ivan says, a shy smile and blush spreading across his face.

"If I have learned anything in my years, it would be that the kindest people are also the cruelest to themselves." Gen smiles, but a sad expression soon washes over her. She bites her lip.

"Da," Ivan whispers, looking discouraged. "I will go back to the dining room now."

Gen nods, turning back to her dishes as he leaves the room. She sighs, looking out the window into the night sky.

When the kitchen and dining room are clean and everything is in its proper place, Gen flips off the kitchen light and heads back to the living room, where the countries are back to their video games. This time, it's Francis and Matthew, shouting profanities at each other in French, making Gen blush.

"Goodnight, everyone." She says, and their attention is turned to her.

"So soon?" Feliciano says, mouth full of popcorn. A few kernels fall out and onto his shirt, and Ludwig, sitting beside him, puts his palm to his forehead quite forcefully.

"Oui," she says, shrugging. "I'm not feeling well."

There are sympathetic nods from a few of them, save for her brother, who is frowning. He pauses the game and stands up, walking over to her. He takes her gently by the elbow and pulls her into the front hall.

"What is it, mon amour?" He asks, concern flaring in his eyes.

"Nothing, Francis." She says, avoiding his gaze.

"Please do not lie to me, Genna. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Really. I'm just not feeling well." Gen places her hand on his cheek. "You worry too much, brother."

Francis purses his lips, searching her face. He leans in to kiss her forehead, and pulls her into a hug.

"I am scared for you."

"Don't be. I am a fighter, remember?" She chuckles humorlessly. "Goodnight."

He nods, and watches her ascend the grand staircase before going back to the living room, shaking his head as he goes.

Gen pads down the carpeted hall, passing many doors as she goes. Most are smaller guest rooms, except for the door at the very end of the hall, which belongs to her brother. The last door on the right before his is the room she's been staying in, and she opens it, steps in, and shuts it behind her. Leaning with her back against the door, she closes her eyes, sinking to the floor to hug her knees to her chest.

She focuses on breathing, in through her nose, out through her mouth. Her arms curl around her knees and she lowers her head to rest on them, feeling very small in comparison to the world. Everything seems to be muted out, the only things she hears being the shallow sound of her breaths.

It's sometime later when Gen opens her eyes and looks up. The clock on the wall reads just after midnight. Hauling herself up, she staggers and hits the wall, seeing swirls of color before her eyes as the blood rushes from her head. Panting, she hugs the wall until her eyes are again clear and rights herself, walking to her adjoining bathroom on shaky legs.

Without turning on the light, she takes her hair out of the bun and runs a brush through it before braiding it down her back. All the while, she's watching herself in the mirror, her already pale skin looking ghastly white in the moonlight that filters in the nearby window. Large, purplish circles cradle her deep blue eyes, making her look not unlike a skeleton.

Frowning into the mirror, Gen sticks her tongue out at her reflection and exits the bathroom. She pulls her sleep shirt from the hook on the back of the door, pulling off and tossing her cardigan to the floor carelessly. She can pick it up in the morning.

She unbuttons her jumpsuit and slides it off, tossing it aside as well. Unhooking her bra, she hangs it on her bedpost before pulling on her sleep shirt. It's a simple t-shirt, pale pink in color, and slightly tighter than what would be considered modest. It matches her underwear, a totally unplanned coincidence that she takes note of, shrugging to herself.

The king-sized bed beckons her, pulling her to it with the promise of relief for her aching bones and tired body. Covers flipped aside, she lies down, pulling the comforter up under her chin, curling into a little ball. She finally loses the battle with her eyelids, succumbing to the fatigue that follows her everywhere like a shadow.

Suddenly, Gen is standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down over the edge. Her hair is wild and untamed, her eyes hold a furious fire, and she's standing straight and tall, looking sternly at the land below her. A long, dark, woolen dress replaces her pajamas, her shoulders are wrapped in a fur-collared cloak, and gripped in her left hand is a massive longbow, arrow at the ready.

Below her, a good hundred and fifty feet down, the tents of an army are arranged haphazardly, and men of all walks of life mill about, most of them probably resenting their current situation. They had been blacksmiths, farmers, bakers…and now they have swords strapped to their waists, ready to jump at anything their newfound leaders proclaim.

"M'lady," a man says from behind Gen, coming quietly to her side. "We are in position."

"Very good." She says, not taking her eyes from the scene below. "Alert the archers to fire on my mark."

"Yes, m'lady." He sneaks off in the coming darkness, leaving her alone yet again. She makes eye contact with a soldier under her command about three hundred feet to her right, nodding. He raises his bow in response, aiming down. Pulling back the string on her bow, she runs her fingers over the fletching of the arrow and spies a lone soldier below her. She lets the arrow fly.

"Genovefa."

The soldier's eyes, rolling back in his head as the arrow meets his forehead.

"Genovefa."

The shouts of his compatriots, the grunts of those already taken down by her archers.

"Genovefa."

An innocent man's dying breath.

Gen's eyes snap open, met at once by the closeness of a pair of violet eyes before her. She's drenched in sweat, shivering in her soaked sheets. Her hands are fisted into the sheets so hard that her knuckles are burning white.

Ivan is standing over her, hand on her shoulder, face alive with worry. His expression softens as she becomes more aware of her surroundings, and she sits up, rubbing her neck.

"Are you all right?" He asks, taking his hand from her shoulder. He's in his pajamas – deep blue silk pants and shirt, the buttons from the middle to the collar undone, exposing his bare chest. He still wears his scarf.

"I think so." Gen says, keeping her eyes trained away from him with a blush on her cheeks. She swallows hard, her throat sore and dry. "Just a little bad dream."

"You were screaming in your sleep." Ivan says, the worry returning to his face. "I think it was not so little."

"It was nothing." She looks away from him, rubbing her bare arms with her palms. The comforter falls away from her as she shifts, revealing her tightly covered chest. Ivan blushes deeply, having caught a good glimpse of the silhouette of her breasts.

Gen frowns, and Ivan curses himself silently, beginning to apologize, but she jumps up off the bed and scrambles into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Ivan rushes to the door just in time to hear the tail-end of her getting violently sick.

"Are you all right in there?" He waits for a response, which comes after a flush.

"Not really." Gen pants, her voice muffled to his ears.

"I'm coming in, da?" Ivan opens the door slowly, finding the woman inside lying with her eyes closed and cheek pressed to the cold tile floor. He gasps softly, kneeling down to confirm that, yes, she is still breathing. "What is happening?"

Gen mumbles something unintelligible, moving her shaking hands to push herself up. Her hand slips on the rug, the only thing keeping her from slamming her head on the floor being Ivan, who reflexively reaches out to catch her by the shoulders and keep her semi-upright.

"This is not good, Genovefa. Something is wrong." He pulls her closer to him, so she can rest her head on his shoulder, which she does. He tenses, the heat of her cheek soaking through his pajamas, sending little electric chills through his body.

"No, no. Nothing is wrong." She says, her voice muted while her face is buried in his shoulder. She sighs, rubbing the back of her hands over her eyes. "It was the dream."

Ivan looks at her questioningly, watching as she closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. He can't help but glance down at her chest as it rises and falls, not to mention the fact that she's wearing only underwear besides her shirt. He scolds himself for the flutter in his stomach, looking back to her face. Gen looks at him, realization flashing in her eyes.

"Why were you in my room?"

"I could hear you screaming. Your room is next to mine, and these French walls are so thin." He says, not even amused by his own joke. "Does this happen often?"

"Sometimes." Gen sighs, biting her fingernail. "I suppose today just brought up old memories."

"Da, I know the feeling."

"At least you still have your country."

Ivan frowns, looking down into her deep blue eyes, which in turn look up and into his. Something shines there, in both their faces. Desperation, fatigue, anguish. Gen finally breaks the gaze, her shoulders hunching as she looks down at her hands in her lap with tears in the corners of her eyes.

"Pathetic."

"What?" Ivan asks, his arm twitching uncomfortably.

"I'm pathetic." She says, louder this time.

"Do not be saying that." Moving his arm around her shoulders, he shakes her playfully. "It could be worse."

"How is that?" Gen asks, sniffing with a half-hearted smile. She relishes the feeling of his hand on her shoulder. It's been so long since anyone has touched her like that. He's so warm – he seems to radiate an intoxicating heat.

"It could be raining." Ivan smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Laughing softly, Gen reaches up to cover Ivan's hand with her own. He jumps, staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face. It's been so long since anyone has touched him like that.

"Thank you, Ivan." She says, squeezing his hand gently. "You _are _kind."

Overcome with emotion, Ivan stands up and scoops Gen into his arms, carrying her back to her bed and setting her down gingerly. He pulls the covers up to her chin and tucks in the loose edges before placing his hand on her cheek. Her eyes are closed already, and she sighs, snuggling into the blankets.

"Thank you, sunflower. Goodnight."


	3. Chapter 3

Something is tickling Gen's cheek, pulling her out of the deepest sleep she's had in a very long time. It takes her a moment to register that she's awake, and that something is actively touching her. She opens her eyes, blinking from the mid-morning sunlight streaming in through her windows and onto her bed.

"Gilbird?" She says, voice cracking from a dry throat. The little yellow bird chirps cheerfully, snuggling himself into the crook of her neck. Sitting up slowly, she offers him a finger, and he hops from her shoulder to her hand, watching her with curiosity as she moves.

"Now where's your papa, hmm?" Gen says, smiling sleepily at the little fellow. He peeps, preening his wing feathers. Looking out the nearby window, Gen watches a few of the countries milling about the backyard.

Kiku and Yao are enjoying their tea on the patio while Ludwig chases Feliciano around the yard, trying to get his hat back from the giggling Italian. Gen chuckles, enjoying their enthusiasm.

"There you are, my little friend! I've been looking for you for twenty whole un-awesome minutes." Gilbert stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and a grin on his face. He notices the deep circles under her eyes, as well as the sickly paleness of her skin, and frowns, stepping into the room. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine." Gen answers, taking time to formulate her response. She smiles as Gilbird hops off her hand and takes flight, landing on his master's head. Gilbert sighs, walking over to sit on the bed beside her.

"You don't have to lie to me, Gen." He looks at her, searching her eyes. After a few moments, she breaks the gaze, no longer having the will to look at him.

"I am…not." Gen pauses, biting her thumbnail as she avoids Gilbert's gaze. He frowns, laying his hand over hers gently. Glancing up at him, she deflates, her shoulders hunching and her head bowing into her chest. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize, lieber. It comes with the territory, so to speak." He sighs, pulling her up into his lap with his arms around her, holding her close to him.

"It's been so long, I forgot how good you smell." Gen whispers, grasping a handful of Gilbert's shirt. He chuckles, the throaty sound reverberating in his chest for her to hear.

"We're going to get you through this, Gen. All of us."

"All of us?" She says, looking up at him, her eyes reflecting the light from the windows.

"The countries. You're family; how could we not help take care of you?" Gilbert stares back at her, remembering the woman she used to be all those centuries ago – fierce, determined, and strong. Now, he sees her and how she's become subdued and fragile, and it burns him deep in his chest like hot coals.

"They don't have to. Really." Gen loosens her grip on his shirt, sitting straight up to look him in the eyes. "I am more than capable of taking care of myself."

Gilbert stills, seeing her old self peeking through in her eyes. It feels very wrong to him, having to argue with her about her own well-being.

"I've been where you are. I know how it feels to watch the others grow and change around you with endless possibilities and be stuck standing still in the midst of it all. You don't just disappear for hundreds of years and expect to come back at full force." He presses his forehead to hers, closing his eyes for a minute. "Your brother cares about you. We all care about you."

Gen swallows hard, fighting back the rising heat in her cheeks and the butterflies in her chest. He's so close, so solid, so warm.

"I care about you." Gilbert whispers, his breath hot on her cheeks. She opens her eyes to meet his and leans up.

"Dudes! Breakfast is served! Last one to the table is a rotten egg!" Alfred's voice echoes up the stairs, breaking the two apart with a jolt. Gilbert blushes deeply, matching the hue on Gen's face.

"I'll meet you down there, oui?" She says, sliding off his lap and standing up. She gives him a sheepish grin.

"Ja," he breathes, standing and shaking his head as he leaves the room.

Gen sighs, stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her, shaking off the jitters. She flips on the water, running her fingers through her hair as she pulls it out of the braid and shucks off her shirt and underwear, tossing them in the hamper. The water is scalding as she steps in, sliding the shower door shut.

Her fingers glide over the multitude of scars covering her stomach and shoulders as she washes, a rough reminder of things she'd rather not deal with right now.

Still, her body begins to shake uncontrollably, and her hands find their way to the tile walls of the shower, pushing against them mercilessly in an attempt to steady herself.

For a moment, her hands – her whole body, in fact – is covered in blood, dripping down the walls, pooling at her feet as it circles the drain, mixed with water. She stares at her hands, rubbing them over each other to try and wash it off, but the blood just continues to flow. It begins to rain down from the showerhead, covering every last inch of her. She screams, sinking down to the floor with bloody tears streaming down her face.

"Genna?" The alarmed shout comes from the other side of the door, along with a series of forceful knocks. Gen can only whimper in response, her eyes squeezed shut as she leans her head back against the tile, her body withdrawing into a ball.

There are a few muffled shouts on the other side of the door before it's forced open, the lock splintering out of the wood. Francis bursts in, laying eyes on his sister with a frightened expression playing across his face.

"Mon dieu!" He exclaims, swiping a towel from the nearby shelf as he scrambles to turn the water off. Kneeling on the shower floor, he wraps the towel around his sister's shoulders, wiping the wet hair away from her face. "What has happened? What's wrong?"

Gen screams again, clawing at her brother's arms as she sobs.

"Genna, it is all right. Please, mon cherie, calm down. It's me."

Gen slowly opens her eyes, stilling as she realizes that there is, in fact, no blood, and she's somehow come to be on the floor of the shower with Francis hovering worriedly over her. She blinks, looking around, then down at her hands.

"I was…there was…" She struggles to form words, looking up at her brother, who is visually disturbed by the look on her face. He frowns, brow creased, and pulls her up to her feet as she clings to him for dear life. Francis wraps the towel around her tighter, hugging her close.

"You're safe, Genna." He says, pulling back to read her face. She stares off to the side, trembling in his arms.

"Everything all right in there?" Arthur calls, not stepping into the bathroom. Gen answers before her brother can even breathe.

"Oui, Arthur. I'm fine." She says, forcing the waver from her voice. Seeming to shake off the episode, she pulls away from Francis to grab a silk bathrobe from the hook on the back of the door, donning it and knotting the tie around her waist tightly.

"I'm sorry to have scared you, brother." Gen shivers, pulling her arms around her shoulders.

"What happened?" Francis asks, reaching out to put his hands on her forearms.

"I would rather discuss it later." She says, gesturing with her head to the door, where several hushed conversations can be heard. Francis looks severely displeased, but nods, hugging her before leaving the room with the door shut behind him.

"Out, out! Back to the dining room!" He can be heard shooing the onlookers away and out of her room.

Gen coughs, hugging her robe tighter around her body as she leans against the counter. Her pulse is racing, and she can feel the adrenaline coursing through her body, making her hands shake.

She takes a few steadying breaths before she opens the door and leaves the bathroom for her closet. Yoga pants and a tank top are all she can manage to find that seem even remotely comfortable, so she pulls them on and throws her hair up into a ponytail, not bothering to brush it.

Looking both ways out her bedroom door, Gen pads down the hall to the top of the staircase, pausing on the top step to take a deep breath. She continues down the stairs as quietly as possible, listening keenly to the voices coming from the dining room. After slipping deftly into the kitchen, she opens a cupboard and grabs a plate to load from the still-steaming array of foods on the counter, taking a spatula to dig into the scrambled eggs sitting in a frying pan on the stove. Forking a helping of eggs into her mouth, she turns around to grab a napkin, jumping with a little squeal.

"We really need to get you a neck bell." Gen chides after she's done almost choking, and Ivan blushes, taking a step into the kitchen.

"You are all right, da?" He says, stepping closer to her. He's got a worry-creased brow and his eyes are curious, though he stays silent.

"Oui," Gen says, setting down her plate and rubbing her palm against her upper arm, avoiding his gaze.

"Your brother is worried for you," Ivan says, shuffling from foot to foot uncomfortably.

"He's always worried," Gen says, chuckling humorlessly.

"I will listen if you want to explain."

Gen looks at Ivan, reading sincerity in his expression.

"Outside." She says, gesturing to the back door. Ivan nods, following her out the door and shutting it behind him. Gen walks the length of the fenced-in backyard, stopping under a big tree that's a good distance from the house – definitely out of earshot. Coming to stop beside her, Ivan waits, watching her intently.

"None of this goes to my brother, understand?" Gen says, turning to look Ivan dead in the eye. He nods, and she sighs, hugging her sides and sinking to the grass, followed slowly by him.

"I've been having the nightmares, as you now know. But, also, sometimes I've been having…hallucinations." Gen shivers, utterly ashamed. "They have been happening when there's a stress on me. I don't know why, or how to make them stop."

"How long has this been going on?" Ivan says, a burning growing in his chest.

"The nightmares? Centuries. Ever since I…lost my country." Tears pool in the corners of her eyes, and she fights with herself to keep her quivering lower lip in check.

"And the hallucinations?" Ivan, too, fights with himself, trying to stay still and not embrace her.

"A few months."

"Is that why you are staying with Francis?"

"I'm staying with him because I have nowhere else to go." A tear streaks down Gen's cheek, dropping to her pants with a splash. Ivan cocks his eyebrow.

"Where have you been staying all these years?"

"Everywhere." Gen sniffs, wiping her cheek on the back of her hand. "I've been drifting since the late Eighteenth Century. I use my savings to do charity work in third world countries."

Ivan stares, gritting his teeth. She's trembling to her core, trying desperately not to lose what little composure she has left.

"When the hallucinations started, I thought it might just be stress, or some tropical disease. They got so bad, though…that my supervisor discharged me. I came here because…because I have no other home to go back to." Her resolve evaporates, and she cries out softly, finally letting the tears flow freely.

Ivan breaks, forgetting formalities, and scoots over to pull her into a deep hug. He whispers meaningless reassurances in his native tongue to her, slowly rocking her back and forth. Gen sobs into his chest, shaking them both with each breath.

They sit like this for a while, until Gen lifts her head to look at Ivan. He looks down at her, heart pounding in his chest. She pulls away a bit, wiping her eyes.

"Merci," she whispers, "merci beaucoup."

"Pozhaluysta, sunflower." Ivan picks her up, standing himself, and then lets her down gently so she can stand as well. He smiles, and she returns the sentiment, heading back to the house with him in tow.


	4. Chapter 4

"Bella! Bella!" Feliciano emerges from the house, charging at Gen and Ivan with his arms spread open. He stumbles over the somewhat uneven terrain and plants himself face-first into the dirt. Ludwig, who followed him out of the back door, can only shake his head and pull the Italian upright by his shoulders. Feliciano is stunned for a split second, but resumes his advance with an energetic giggle. Gen almost asks if he's all right, but her sentence is cut off by a swift hug from the man.

"Miss Genovefa! Ludwig and Kiku and I are going for a run! You're coming, too, right? Yes, of course you are! Come on, bella!" Feliciano grabs her hand, starting to drag her towards the house. She looks back worriedly at Ivan, who shrugs his shoulders and smiles apologetically.

"What the dummkopf means to ask is whether or not you'd like to join us." Ludwig says, pinching the brow of his nose with a sigh.

"That is what I said!" Feliciano chimes in, still dragging Gen.

"Do I really have a choice?" She asks, and Ludwig blushes, shaking his head.

"Nein."

Twenty minutes later, when everyone is in their workout clothes, and Gen – thank heavens – has had a chance to brush her hair, the four pile into Ludwig's car – some sort of Mercedes SUV – and Gen once again reassures her brother that she'll be fine. He'd been shocked when Feliciano had burst into the house and declared that she would be going with them.

"I'm not _too_ out of shape, now am I, brother?" She teases, pecking him on the cheek before she shuts the door.

"You bring her back _exactly _the way she is, you hear?" Francis says, pointing a finger at Ludwig in the driver's seat. "No scratches, no broken anything, oui?"

"Ja." Ludwig says, looking her over to make sure he can remember all the details to keep that promise. He nods at Francis, who steps away from the car, and they depart.

Feliciano had originally called 'shotgun', but Ludwig forced him into the backseat with Kiku, saying something about ladies getting the front seat that made Gen blush. She thanks him again as they drive, Feliciano pouting in the back with his arms crossed over his chest.

They sit in awkward silence for the majority of the short ride into town, none of them really knowing what to say to one another. Finally, when they arrive at the track and step out of the car, Ludwig speaks.

"That color looks, ah, nice on you." He says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Gen looks down at what she's wearing – a steel blue sports top and matching shorts.

"Merci," she says, blushing. He nods, turning and walking swiftly out to the track. Feliciano follows him hastily, leaving Gen and Kiku to walk leisurely a ways behind them.

"I am sorry for what Yao said last night," he says, looking straight ahead. "He is not often the most polite person in a room."

"It's all right. Just caught me off-guard, is all." Gen says, observing the man beside her. He looks at her, nodding his head at her statement. Then, gesturing to the other two members of the group, the smaller of which being chased by the other, she says, "Are they always like this?"

"More often than not." Kiku sighs, smiling a bit as he shakes his head. "But they are good friends."

Gen nods.

"I have never been to your country. China, Thailand, the Philippines, but never to Japan. May I visit sometime?"

"Hai, I would be honored." Kiku says, holding the gate to the track open for her. "What brought you to so many places in Asia?"

"I work…worked, rather for a charity that brought education and medical care to impoverished areas of the world." Gen says, shoulders sagging.

"But not anymore?" Kiku asks, immediately regretting his question when he sees the look on her face.

"Non," she says, frowning. "They did not want me anymore."

Kiku begins to apologize, but is cut off by Ludwig shouting that they had better get moving or he'd make them run extra laps. Smiling sheepishly at Kiku, Gen races up to Ludwig.

"I will not make you run the extra laps," he says, grinning. "Just those two."

Gen smiles, catching a full-on glimpse of his face, reminding her so very much of little Holy Roman Empire, and of Germania. She doesn't say anything, but makes a mental note to ask Gilbert about his brother. Looking back at the man before her, she speaks.

"So, give me this 'German training' of yours, oui?" She grins, and he blushes deeply, but smiles widely back at her, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

"Ja."

Oh, how she regrets goading him on. Run a lap, then ten pushups, ten sit-ups – and repeat. Over, and over, and over again.

Gen's legs feel like gelatin after a good hours or so, and she sits on the grass beside the track, head bowed between her knees. Her chest heaves, and she takes a long drink from her water bottle.

"That was pretty good," Ludwig says, jogging over to where she's sitting, "for a Frenchwoman."

"Hey now, I am partly German, you know." Gen looks over at Feliciano, who is dragging his feet along the track as Kiku laps him for the third time. "Sadly, partly Italian, too."

Ludwig laughs, a deep, rich sound.

"Ja, I will give you that." He sits beside her, taking a drink from his water bottle. Gen can't help but notice the way he's built, his muscles glinting with sweat in the sunshine as he moves, calling out to the other two. "We eat when you finish your laps."

Feliciano perks up, yelling something about pasta as he speeds around the track. Gen and Ludwig laugh, looking at each other briefly.

"I wanted to ask you something, if you don't mind," Ludwig says, playing with the cap to his bottle.

"Oui, anything," Gen says, curiosity peaked. He looks at her, eyes searching hers.

"Yesterday, you acted as though you knew me. I was wondering who you mistook me for."

Biting her lip, Gen panics for an answer.

"You reminded me very much of someone I used to know, back when…" She trails off, picking a blade of grass from beside her and rolling it between her fingers, and sighs. "You just look very much like him."

Ludwig nods, wishing he hadn't brought it up from the look on her face. He slowly places his hand on her shoulder, trying to offer some measure of comfort, to which Gen jumps, but smiles back at him with a blush. He looks down at her shoulder, noticing a series of light, raised lines showing on her skin.

"What happened to you?" He asks, the question coming out much more blunt than he wanted it to. She follows his gaze, seeing what he's referring to, and sighs.

"Please don't tell ma petite Italie this, but much of my…my country, my land, was raided frequently by the Roman Empire." Gen stiffens at the memory. "I fought to defend my people."

Ludwig nods, keeping his hand on her shoulder. She's shaking, and he moves his hand to rub between her shoulder blades. Seeming to melt, Gen closes her eyes.

"Do we get to have the pasta now?" Feliciano yells, running up to them, panting, followed shortly by Kiku.

"Oui," Gen says, looking up at him with a smile. "All the pasta you want. And Ludwig is paying."

Feliciano cheers, running around with his arms up in the air. Gen grins at Ludwig, who fights a smile as he stands, and offers her a hand. She takes it, and he pulls her up, steadying her as she sways on wobbly legs. They make their way back to the car, chatting lightly with each other, before heading to lunch and then back to Francis' house. Gen is met at the door by Arthur, who opens it for her with a nod and leaves the house for his car, suitcase in hand.

"Where are you going, Angleterre?" She asks, hand on her hip.

"Home, I'm afraid." Arthur says, putting the suitcase in the trunk of his car. "Work to do."

"Hey, you crazy limey! Don't leave without us!" Alfred yells, running out of the house with Matthew following shortly behind him. Arthur rolls his eyes, slamming the door and approaching Gen as the other two load their belongings. He stands awkwardly, prompting Gen to pull him into a hug, which he nervously returns.

"Maybe I will come to visit, oui?" She says, pulling back to look at him. "Have some fish and chips and such."

Arthur chuckles at her attempt at an English accent, nodding. Matthew comes up to her sheepishly.

"You, too? I will be all alone now." Gen hugs him, giving Kumijiro a kiss on the nose.

"Sorry," Matthew whispers, blushing. He walks to the car, leaving Alfred to strut over with a mischievous grin on his face.

"Adieu, mon-" Gen's goodbye is quickly cut off by Alfred's lips crashing into hers. Admittedly, she doesn't resist, but keeps her participation to a minimum. Arthur is screaming and waving his arms, cursing out Alfred, and Matthew looks like he's about to faint.

"Cherie." Gen breathes, her face a deep hue of crimson. Alfred grins like a hyena, sprinting back to the car like a maniac. Arthur slaps him upside the head when all three of them are in the car, and his shouting can be heard quite a ways down the road as they drive away. Kumijiro waves at her out the back window.

Giggling to herself, Gen returns to the house to find the front room full of suitcases, and she frowns. Yao and Kiku enter the room, both dressed in travelling clothes, arguing about something.

"Not you, too." She wails, pulling them both into hug, one in each arm. The two men look at each other over across her shoulders, shrugging.

"Will we see you at next meeting, aru?" Yao asks, and Gen looks at him, puzzled.

"The world meeting?" She asks, confused.

"Hai," Kiku says.

"But, I'm not…"

"No matter. You come!" Yao insists, pointing his finger at her.

"All right," Gen says, nodding. "I will come accompany my brother."

She pecks each of them on the cheek, flustering both of them considerably. They pick up their suitcases, bow to her, and leave. She sighs, looking after them, then shakes her head and enters the living room.

Ludwig is cleaning up his paperwork and packing it into a briefcase while Feliciano stretches up to try and get Pookie down from on top of the china cabinet.

"So soon," Gen whispers, watching them. Ludwig looks in her direction, finishing his cleanup.

"Ready to go, losers?" Gilbert comes into the room, luggage in hand. He chuckles, watching his brother roll his eyes. He spots Gen, setting down his suitcase and pulling her gently into the front room as they make eye contact.

"Please don't leave." Gen whispers, looking up at him with watery eyes. "I don't want to be alone again."

Gilbert pulls her into a hug, resting his cheek in her hair. He rubs her shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Don't worry, lieber. I will be back soon. Here." He pulls a little silver cell phone from his pocket and presses it into her hand, enveloping it with both of his.

"What's this?" Gen says, looking from their hands to his face.

"I'm on the speed-dial. I don't care what time it is, or what's wrong. Just call me."

Gen nods, and Gilbert pulls her close to him, pressing his lips softly to hers. The breath catches in her throat, but she finds herself slinking her hands into his silky hair. He places a hand gently on the small of her back, the other cupping her cheek.

Above, on the landing, a pair of violet eyes watches them. Ivan's grip tightens on the handle of his suitcase and he grits his teeth, forcing the sorrow into anger.


	5. Chapter 5

Gen waves as Ludwig's SUV pulls out of the driveway, carrying him, Feliciano, and Gilbert down the road and out of sight. She sighs, wrapping her arms around herself, and walks back into the house, closing the front door behind her. The house seems very large now, without the raucous voices of her new friends echoing off the walls.

Francis is nowhere to be seen – probably up in his office – so Gen decides to head into the study and flops down on the sofa, picking up a book from the end table. It's a rather thick book of poetry, spanning many years and countries, one that she's more than halfway through – for the second time. She finishes a chapter, Poems from Slavic Lands, and her eyelids begin to droop.

Closing her eyes while she soaks up the sunshine streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Gen leans back into the sofa cushions, the book slipping from her hand to the seat beside her. Her aching muscles begin to unwind as she drifts off to sleep, curling instinctively into a ball as her body temperature drops.

Passing the open door on his way out, Ivan stops in the doorway, fighting with himself as he lays eyes on Gen, his features softening while watching the sleeping woman. He sighs, walking softly into the room to grab a throw blanket from one of the chairs and drape it over her, tucking it around her and up under her chin.

Gen smiles in her sleep, groaning softly. Ivan smiles, something deep within his chest pulling him closer to her. He hesitates for just a moment, then presses his lips to her forehead, savoring her sweet, almost floral scent.

"Ya budu zhdat' tebya," he whispers, pulling back to look her over one more time before turning and quietly retreating from the room. He leaves the house and steps into his car, sighing as he grips the steering wheel tight, and leaves.

Several hours later, Francis emerges from his office, taking the relative silence of the house to mean all of his guests have departed. Walking from room to room, looking through each door, he finally makes it downstairs to the study and finds his sister still asleep on the sofa. Smiling softly, he goes about his business, shutting the door behind him.

Several more hours later, Gen's eyes flutter open, readjusting to the darkness of the study. She stretches slowly, realizing that she'd been, at some point, covered in a blanket. She shrugs, figuring her brother is responsible. Exiting the study, Gen follows the sound of voices into the living room, finding Francis curled up on the couch in his pajamas, crying into a pint of ice cream.

"Frère? What's wrong?" She asks, approaching him.

"This woman," He sobs, setting his spoon in the half-devoured carton, "falls in love with a vampire _and _a werewolf. She must make a choice!"

"Right…" Gen says, noticing empty take-out containers on a side table. "Thai food, again?"

"Oui. I did not feel like cooking. There is some in the kitchen for you." Francis picks up his spoon, digging in and cramming a large spoonful into his mouth.

Gen nods worriedly, going into the kitchen. She grabs the styrofoam container from the counter, digs out a fork from the silverware drawer, and slips out the back door.

The night is warm, just enough so that she doesn't need to get a sweater, and she pulls out a chair from the patio table, swinging her feet up to rest on the table. She pops open the container and starts on her dinner, watching the stars.

A thought hits her then – she'd seen everyone off besides Ivan. Wondering if he's actually left, she sets down her food and walks over to the side gate, following the length of the house and peeking around the corner. No cars.

Gen sighs, making her way back to the patio to finish her dinner. Going back into the house, she cleans up the cartons from the counter, flips off the light, and ascends the staircase to her room. She unlocks the double French doors and steps out onto the balcony, pressing her palms into the railing as she looks up at the sky.

Something vibrates in her pants pocket, and she fishes out the cell phone that Gilbert had given her, flipping it open and putting it to her ear.

"Bonjour?"

"Guten Abend liebe." Gilbert says, his voice light and enthusiastic.

"Oh, bonjour, Gilbert!" Gen says, smiling. "Did you get home all right?"

"Ja," he says, yawning into the phone. "Ten hours in a car with Feliciano. Just wonderful."

Gen chuckles, leaning on the railing.

"This will sound silly, but I miss you, schatz."

There's a moment of silence, Gen's heart pounding in her chest. She grins, blushing profusely.

"I miss you too."

"Will you come visit me?" Gilbert asks, the sound of papers shuffling around coming through the phone.

Thinking, something deep in Gen's chest is screaming, a hot, tight feeling riding in the back of her skull.

"Oui," she says, almost reflexively. She doesn't quite regret saying it, but she's definitely not happy with herself.

"Beautiful," he breathes, the smile evident in his voice. There's the sound of something crashing in the background, and Ludwig can be heard cursing loudly in German.

"I have to go, schatz. The Italian just fell through the patio door."

"Oh, my." Gen says, her hand flying to her mouth in worry. "Is he hurt?"

"Oh, probably. Mein bruder will fix him up." Gilbert chuckles. "Gute nacht."

"Dormez bien." The phone clicks, and Gen snaps it shut, resting her head on her arms as she folds the on the balcony. She breathes deep, staring at her toes, and lifts her head, an idea striking her.

Closing the doors, she tiptoes down to Francis' bedroom door and slips in, spotting his cell phone on his nightstand. Her deft fingers search the address book, copying a number into her phone before replacing his phone and hurrying back to her room.

Falling back onto her bed, Gen selects the contact and it calls, filling her with little nervous butterflies in her stomach. The phone rings three times, and picks up.

"Zdravstvuyte?"

"Bonjour, Ivan." Gen says, biting her thumb nail.

"Genovefa?" Ivan says, clearly surprised. "What is up?"

"I, uh…" She trails off, really not sure what she was planning to say a moment ago. "Just checking to see how your flight was."

"I will let you know when I am knowing." He chuckles. "I am stuck in Ukraine at the airport. How did you sleep?"

"Fine," Gen says, putting the pieces together in her head. "I was very warm."

"Good," he says with a smile in his voice.

"Forgive me for not saying goodbye today."

"Do not worry. You needed the sleep, I think."

"Oui," Gen says, biting her lip. "Merci for sitting with me last night. It was very kind."

Ivan is silent for a moment, and speaks then with a slight pitch to his voice.

"You are welcome, sunflower."

Gen smiles, feeling suddenly very warm and peaceful. She sits there, staring at the ceiling, almost forgetting Ivan is still on the line.

"I will see you at the next meeting, da?" He says finally, clearing his throat.

"I guess so," she whispers, rolling onto her side and curling into the blanket.

"Wonderful." He says, sighing. "My flight is now boarding, domashneye zhivotnoye. Please take care of yourself, da?"

"Da," Gen breathes, closing her eyes. "You…you will call me when you land, please?"

"Da," Ivan says, chuckling. "Khorosho, sunflower."

"Good night."

Gen falls asleep soon after they hang up, her cell phone grasped in her hands, held over her heart.

**A/N: Reviews make my day :)**

**Also, making it a habit to translate some stuff :p**

**Translations: **

Ya budu zhdat' tebya = I'll wait for you

Guten Abend liebe = Good evening dear

Schatz = Sweetheart

Mein bruder = my brother

Gute nacht = Good night

Dormez bien = Sleep tight

Zdravstvuyte = Hello

Domashneye zhivotnoye = Pet

Khorosho = Be well


	6. Chapter 6

**Short chapter today! Have a good New Year, everyone! Oh, and review ^^**

Gen blinks, the morning sunshine illuminating her room. She stretches her limbs, glancing at the clock to see that it's just about eleven o'clock. Still dressed in her clothes from the previous night, she heads into the bathroom for a wake-up shower, all the while thinking she keeps hearing a shrill beep from somewhere in her room.

Dried off and wrapped in her towel, she exits the steam-filled bathroom and searches her closet for something to wear. A red blouse and black skinny jeans are chosen, and she stills, hearing the beep again.

A more in-depth search reveals her cell phone, shoved under a pillow at some point during the night, to be the source of the tone. Gen flips it open, seeing a voicemail available. She presses 'play' and puts the phone to her ear.

"Privet, Genovefa. I promised to call you when I landed, and so here I am, calling you from Moscow. You are most likely sleeping now, so please sleep well. I will be asking that you do not have the nightmares this time. Take care."

Gen smiles, almost pressing the 'redial' button, but thinks better of it and stows the phone in the drawer in her bedside table. She pulls on her pants and blouse, buttoning the latter while watching her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The dark circles under her eyes are less noticeable, but still present, having lessened with a few nights of much-needed good sleep. She brushes her hair, braiding it down her back, and leaves the bathroom and walks out to the landing at the top of the stairs.

"Francis?" She calls, waiting for a few moments for a response. Nothing. Shrugging, she begins her descent down the grand staircase. About halfway down, an overwhelming sense of lightheadedness overcomes her, and she stumbles, missing a step in the process. She falls hard, landing a few steps down, sideways on her back. Her head slams into the angle of the current step and she loses consciousness, rolling haphazardly down the rest of the steps to land on her back at the bottom.

Gen comes back to consciousness slowly, realizing she's being shaken by someone. Her eyes flutter open, met by the worried brown eyes of a strangely familiar maid.

"Mon dieu! Mademoiselle Genovefa, are you all right?" The young woman is kneeling beside her, fanning her hand back and forth over Gen's face, a terrified look on her own face.

"Oui, Annette, I am fine." Gen says, slowly sitting up. A man walks by, carrying a tray, and looks at the pair curiously. Returning the odd gaze, Gen looks over his clothes, a late 18th Century ensemble, then at her own. She's wearing an olive green, full silk gown, complete with a petticoat and corset, which right now is making it very hard for her to catch her breath. Annette catches her questioning gaze.

"Shall I fetch the physician?" She asks, helping a woozy Gen to stand up, holding her gingerly.

"Non," Gen breathes, hand on her stomach to try and regulate her breathing. She looks around, eyes widening. Gone is her brother's house, replaced by what is unmistakably the grand foyer of the palace at Versailles. She closes her eyes and brings her hand to her forehead, knowing she must be dreaming. She takes a few deep breaths, and opens her eyes to find herself in the same place, an even more concerned Annette by her side.

"Where is my brother?" Gen breathes, starting to panic. Annette furrows her eyebrows, looking around nervously.

"My lady, he is in England. He has not been here for months."

Gen swallows hard, trying to keep calm. She wrings her hands, looking around with a wild expression. A thought occurs to her then, mixing in her head uncomfortably. This must be reality, and the frightening remembrance of a different house, a dream.

"Fetch the physician, mon cherie. I will lie down and wait for him in the drawing room." Gen says, taking a wobbly step in the opposite direction. Annette nods slowly, and reluctantly scurries off and out of sight. After a moment, making sure she's gone, Gen hurries towards the north wing of the palace, gaining odd looks from other servants in her haste.

"My lady," she says, knocking softly on a door.

"Come in," is the response, and Gen obeys, swinging open the door slowly, slipping into the room while closing it behind her. A woman is lounging on a chaise inside, a book in her hand. She looks up, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Genovefa, you look as if you've seen a ghost. What is wrong?"

Gen curtsies, stepping closer.

"I fear I am going mad, my lady."

The woman laughs, a sound like the tinkling of bells. She sets down her book and pulls on her skirts, motioning for Gen to sit beside her, which she does.

"We are all a little mad, dove. But what is it today that has you so shaken?"

"A dream." Gen sighs. "Of the future."

"Oh my," the woman says, placing her hand on Gen's. "Tell me, was the country still in such an uproar? And what of my Louis and me?"

"Gone, my lady. You were both gone. And the country was in peace, for many, many years." Gen looks dismayed, and glances at the Queen.

"Then it cannot be a bad dream, oui?" She grasps Gen's hands tighter, and Gen closes her eyes slowly. "You are eternal, dove. You have no reason to fear the future. I may wither and die, and so will all the people in the world, but you stay young. The future is to be looked at with hope and enthusiasm. Do not forget that."

Gen nods, and the Queen leans in to hug her.

A sharp, electronic tone cuts through the air, and Gen opens her eyes, finding herself standing, very much in the present day, in her brother's kitchen. Her head is pounding, and she reaches back, hissing as her fingers come into contact with a bloody cut in her scalp. The tone sounds again, and she realizes that it's the doorbell. She looks around in confusion, the Versailles façade completely gone, her feet rooted in the present.

Hurrying to the door, Gen opens it slowly to find a small woman in a business suit standing on the front steps.

"Miss Genovefa Bonnefoy?" She says, her German accent coming through in her words.

"Oui," Gen says, turning to the side and hoping the woman doesn't see the cut. The woman hands her an envelope, smiling politely.

"My name is Ingrid Klein, and I work for the German Embassy in Paris. Mr. Beilschmidt sends his regards."

Gen takes the envelope, thoroughly confused.

"My contact information is included there, as well. Please do not hesitate to phone me if a problem arises."

"Merci, Ms. Klein." Gen says, still a bit dumbfounded. Ingrid nods, raising a hand in parting, and gets back into her government SUV. She waves again before driving off.

Gen stands on the stoop for a moment, watching her car disappear. She then heads inside, closing the door and leaning against it. Inside the envelope sits Ms. Klein's business card and a train ticket, dated for the following day. The destination reads 'Berlin'.

Still a bit confused, she walks back into the kitchen, setting the envelope on the counter, and makes her way into the downstairs bathroom. She pulls out a dark-colored washcloth and soaks it in hot water, then presses it to the back of her head, wincing at the contact with the broken skin. Then, rinsing and wringing out the washcloth, she digs through the closet to find a hand mirror, and angles it so she can see the cut in the reflection from the big mirror.

It's not bad, by any means, but still a significant wound, about two inches at the base of her skull. She finishes cleaning up the dried blood and leaves the bathroom, grabbing the envelope on her way back to her room. The cell phone is dug out of its drawer, and she dials.

"Guten tag."

"Bonjour, Gilbert. It's me."

"Ah, Gen!" Gilbert exclaims, excited. "What makes you call the awesome me on this awesome day?"

"You sent me a train ticket, non?" She says, sitting on her bed.

"Ja, I hope you don't mind that."

"No, no. I'm just wondering why."

Gilbert laughs softly, making static on the phone.

"You said you'd come visit me, schatz. I'm just speeding up the process."

"Oh," Gen whispers, butterflies in her stomach.

"Is that okay?" Gilbert says softly, concern leaking into his voice.

"Oui, it's fine. I just was not expecting it."

"But you're coming, ja?"

"Ja," she says finally, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"How are you feeling?" He asks, silence following.

"Better," Gen says, conveniently omitting today's in-depth hallucination and head wound. "I've been sleeping well."

"Good to hear," Gilbert says the sound of chirping coming through the phone. "Gah! Get away, bird! Gilbird says hello."

Gen giggles.

"You will meet me at the station, oui?"

"But of course, mein lieber. I will see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," she says softly.


	7. Chapter 7

"Genna, are you sure you want to go?" Francis stands in the doorway of her room, arms folded in front of him as he watches her pack her suitcase.

"Oui, Francis, I do." Gen says, folding a blouse. "Why are you worrying?"

"I'm not worrying," he says, stepping into the room. "I am just concerned for you."

"Concern is another word for worry," Gen teases, chuckling as she stows the blouse in the suitcase. She's wearing her hair down today, hiding the cut from the day before, not wanting to alarm her brother more.

"Right," Francis sighs, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Please be careful, Genna. I really would hate to see a repeat of the last time you and Gilbert were…together."

He shudders, yanking Gen away from her packing to envelop her in a bear hug. She squeaks in surprise, but ends out hugging him back.

"That is ancient history, brother." She pulls back to look him in the eyes. "Besides, I am a big girl. I could kick his ass if need be."

Francis chuckles.

"Come, we will be late getting you to the station." He snaps the hard-shell suitcase closed and picks it up by the handle, holding out his hand for Gen to grasp. She does, and picks up her purse, checking quickly to make sure her cell phone is inside. They walk down the stairs, a chill coming over Gen as they pass the stair where she hit her head. Francis doesn't seem to notice.

It's a nice, warm day, so they pile into a sleek black convertible and leave the driveway, heading out of the countryside and into Paris proper. It's a relatively short drive, but pleasant and scenic nonetheless. Gen leans back onto the headrest, watching the clouds in the perfect blue sky, contemplating whether or not this trip is really a good idea. Something in her gut tells her no, but a loud voice, sounding suspiciously German, reminds her of her crushing isolation and the pain it brought with it.

Pulling into the parking lot of the station, Francis maneuvers into a spot and cuts the engine. He sighs, looking at his sister.

"Last chance, Genna. We can turn around right now, no questions asked." He looks at her with a sort of pleading. Gen rolls her eyes.

"Big girl, remember." She gestures around her. "Making her own decisions."

The corners of Francis's mouth turn down, and he shakes his head at her.

"Fine, fine. Staying out of it."

Gen opens her door, stepping out of the car, and pulls her suitcase out of the backseat and to her side. She nods at Francis, and the two enter the station. It's just about ten o'clock, and the building is packed with people, bustling about with their routines.

Checking in at one of the kiosks, Gen turns back to her brother, finding him surrounded by two men and younger-looking teen. They seem to be chatting sociably, peaking Gen's interest. She walks over and registers her suitcase, handing it off to the man to be loaded onto the train. She then returns to Francis, looking at the men curiously.

"Bonjour," she says, garnering the attention of the men. They smile at her nervously, looking at Francis.

"Oh, how incredibly rude of me. This is my sister, Genovefa." He says, gently putting her arm around her. She winces, the skin on her back still tender from the day before. They don't seem to notice.

"You are friends of my brother's?" She asks, looking at them sheepishly. One has short blonde hair and glasses, the other having longer, sandy-colored hair. The youngest of the three is blonde as well, having a sweet, boy-like face that's currently covered in a blush.

"You could call us that," the man with longer hair says.

"These are the Baltic countries, Eduard, Raivis, Toris, or Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. They share a house with Ivan in Moscow." Francis says, gesturing to each of them as he introduces them.

"With Ivan? That must be fun." Gen says, smiling at the thought.

"Oh, no! Mr. Russia is scary!" Raivis cries. "Sometimes he chases us around with a – ow!"

Toris elbows him in the ribs, silencing him with a plastered-on smile at Gen. She raises an eyebrow a their antics. An announcement comes on the intercom, announcing the boarding of Gen's train.

"Oh, that's my cue! It was nice to meet you three. Please tell Ivan I said hello, oui?" She tightens her grip on her purse nervously.

"We will." Eduard says, smiling.

"Can we sit by you on the train, Miss Genovefa? Can we?" Raivis says, excitement shining in his eyes.

"You are on this train, too? To Berlin?" She asks, confused.

"It's just a stop for us on the way back to Moscow. Mr. Russia makes us take the train." Eduard says, shuffling his feet uncomfortably.

"Sure, I would love to talk to you some more."

"Yes!" Raivis exclaims, pumping the air. Gen chuckles, watching the annoyed expressions on the other's faces.

"Hurry now, we wouldn't want you to miss your train," Francis says, somewhat bitterly, and pulls his sister to him, kissing her on the forehead. She laughs, pecking him on the cheek and squeezing him tight.

"You have the number of the cell phone Gil gave me, frère. You can check up on me as often as you like. I'll ignore you most of the time, but still." Gen smiles, sticking her tongue out at Francis, who rolls his eyes but grins.

"Just go." He says, letting her out of his grasp. "Call me when you get there."

"Oui," Gen says, raising a hand in parting, and the Baltics follow shortly after saying their goodbyes to Francis. They all board the train, finding two pairs of seats facing each other, and sit down. After a short announcement from the conductor, the train departs.

"You three were at the meeting in Paris the other day, right?" Gen asks, looking from the window to the men before her.

"Yes, the World Meeting." Toris says. "We go to all of them."

"I see." Gen says, looking at the floor. "I've never been to one."

"But you're a country, right?" Raivis asks, looking up at her from his position next to her, one that he'd insisted on having. "You're Francis' sister."

"I used to be a country, mon cherie. I'm older than my brother, but my country was…ah, dissolved." Gen says sadly, trying to keep her expression even for the young man, who frowns.

"Like Mr. Gilbert?" He asks, the honest curiosity showing in his features.

"Oui," she sighs. "Very much like him."

"Is that why you're going to Germany? To see Mr. Gilbert?" Raivis asks, and Toris kicks him across the gap between seats.

"That's none of our business, Raivis." He says, shooting daggers at the young man.

"Sorry," Raivis mumbles, slumping and looking at his hands in his lap.

"Nonsense, it is fine." Gen says, putting her hand on Raivis's shoulder. He turns to look up at her. "Gilbert is a very old friend of mine, one that I haven't seen in a very long time until a few days ago. We're going to be catching up with each other."

Toris and Eduard look at each other knowingly, but say nothing. Gen looks up, changing the subject.

"So, tell me about Ivan." She looks at the three countries before her, all of who are shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

"What do you want to know?" Eduard asks, looking at her quizzically.

"Yeah, and why? Mr. Russia is scary!" Raivis says, earning more dagger looks from the other two.

"That's what you keep saying," Gen muses under her breath. "He was very kind to me when he was staying at my brother's house. Why do you think he's so scary?"

They look at one another anxiously before Eduard speaks up.

"He has a very dangerous temper. It's easy to make him angry."

"And when he gets angry…out comes the Magic Metal Pipe of Pain…" Raivis says, shuddering.

"The what?" Gen asks, sitting up straighter to look at him better.

"It's best if we don't talk about it." Toris whispers, looking around as if there might be spies aboard the train, listening in. Gen nods, looking back out the window. Surely what they say can't be true.

The next hour or so is spent with polite small talk, and Gen learns a great deal about the Baltics. Lunch is served then, and after that, she takes a few hour's-long nap, waking up in time to hear the conductor announce that they're a half hour outside of Berlin.

"How long will you be traveling?" She asks finally, and Eduard looks up from his book.

"It's another few hours to Kiev, where we'll stop for the night and get a hotel. Then another ride back to Moscow." He sighs, closing his book. "We should be back by tomorrow night."

"That sounds awful. Why don't you just fly?"

"Mr. Russia doesn't let us." Raivis says, yawning and stretching from his position of leaning on Gen's shoulder and napping.

"I see," she says, frowning. They're painting a very different picture of Ivan than she has in her mind. "That's too bad."

There's another few minutes of silence between the four, with Gen deep in thought.

"Would you…ah, how do I say this?" She says, fumbling for words. "I'd very much like to speak with you three again. Is there a number where I can reach you?"

Toris nods, taking Gen's cell phone from her when she offers it to him, programming a number into it.

"This is the landline at our…Mr. Russia's house. We don't have cell phones." He says, handing it back to her.

"Let me guess. He doesn't let you?" Gen asks.

They nod. Gen huffs, rubbing her temples.

About twenty minutes later, the train pulls into the station, and the passengers begin filing off and onto the platform. Toris lets Gen out first, a gentlemanly gesture that makes her smile. Eduard and Raivis, once they're all off the train, fetch their luggage, as well as Gen's suitcase. Struggling to lift it, Raivis hands it to her, and she leans down, kissing him on the cheek.

"Merci beaucoup, Raivis." She says, chuckling at the deep red on his cheeks.

"S-s-sure." He stammers, hiding his face in his hands.

The four walk into the station together, Toris going off to find a spot for them to sit and wait for their next train. They follow him, and the men set down their luggage on the benches. Gen hugs each one of them, in turn giving them each a peck on the cheek.

"Merci." She says, looking at them.

"Yoohoo! Schatz!"

Gen turns around, seeing Gilbert racing up to her, pretty much pushing people out of the way. He gets to her, picks her up in a hug and spins her around. The Baltics can only watch in mixed horror and amusement at the spectacle.

"Oh, hello." He says, setting her down upon noticing the others. "What are you guys doing here?"

"They're on their way back to Moscow," Gen says, catching her breath and trying to calm her racing heart.

"Ah." Gilbert says, picking up her suitcase. "Have fun with that."

"Thank you, again," Gen says, smiling at them. "Please say hello to Ivan for me."

The Baltics nod, Raivis looking like he's about to cry. Gen waves in parting, turning back to Gilbert, who grasps her hand and pulls her to a more secluded part of the station. He sets down the suitcase and cups her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers before angling his head down into a deep kiss. She gasps into his lips, her head spinning.

"I've missed you." He whispers, ghosting his lips along her jawline. She pulls him back to look into his eyes, searching them, then takes to his mouth with hers.

"Aww."

Gilbert and Gen jump, stepping back form each other. Feliciano is standing uncomfortably close, hands clasped over his heart with a huge, lovesick grin on his face.

"That's so cute!" He exclaims, hugging both of them tightly. Gen glances at Gilbert, who looks at her apologetically. A loud sigh sounds from behind them, and Gen looks over Feliciano's shoulder to see a rather agitated Ludwig approaching.

"We've talked about this," he says, yanking the Italian off of the others. "Remember?"

"Si! The personal space!" Feliciano says, still staring at Gen.

"Let's just go," Gilbert grumbles, picking up her suitcase. "Mein gott…"

Gen smiles uneasily at Ludwig, who nods at her and pulls Feliciano away by the scruff of his jacket. Gilbert holds out his hand for Gen, who takes it in hers, and they follow the other two, leaving the station. Her suitcase is loaded into the back end of Ludwig's SUV, and the group piles in, Ludwig driving, Feliciano as shotgun, and Gen and Gilbert in the back seat.

"It all looks so different…" Gen says, looking out the tinted window at the passing cityscape.

"Ja," Gilbert laughs, taking her hand. "You haven't been here for two hundred years."

Gen jumps at the contact, relaxing into his shoulder a few moments later.

"Way too long," he says, pulling their joined hands up to kiss hers. She blushes, looking away.

A few more minutes of driving brings them to the outskirts of the city, and to a large, stately house. Gen gets out of the SUV, staring at the structure with wide eyes.

"Wow," she whispers.

"It's really not that cool," Gilbert says, purposely loud enough for Ludwig to hear, who rolls his eyes and unlocks the front door.

"I'm just so used to straw huts," Gen says, taking her eyes off of the building to start her walk inside. Gilbert laughs, following after her with her suitcase in-hand.

The first room is a bit of a mudroom, with a large living room beyond, filled with couches and chairs and a massive, slate fireplace. Gen is in awe, slipping off her shoes and walking in. Pookie walks up, rubbing against her ankles.

"I'll take this up to your room, ja?" Gilbert says, heading for the staircase that sits on one end of the room. "Then you can get ready to go."

"Go? Go where?" She says, picking up a mewing Pookie and cuddling the cat in her arms.

"We're going to dinner, bella!" Feliciano says, pulling off his boots, effectively getting mud everywhere, including the walls and ceiling.

"Dinner?"


	8. Chapter 8

Quite to Gen's surprise, the SUV pulls up to a quaint little building with a sign written in French, resembling a typical Parisian café. Gilbert notices the expression on her face and smiles, squeezing her hand. She looks at him, a small smile spreading across her lips.

"Do you like it?" He asks, looking at her worriedly. Gen nods.

"Oui," she says, using her free hand to unbuckle her seatbelt. "I was just expecting a bar or something."

"Don't be silly, schatz. I'm way too awesome to take you to a mere bar." Gilbert laughs, unbuckling and opening his car door. He steps out and shuts it, racing around the car to open Gen's door. She gets out and he takes her hand, shutting her door behind her.

Ludwig and Feliciano are already to the door of the restaurant, but Gilbert and Gen lag behind, walking slowly in the cool night air with fingers entwined. Gen's cheeks are warm, but it's too dark for Gilbert to notice the shyness splayed across her face.

"I want you to feel at home here." He says, looking down at her as they walk. She looks up, face burning hotter.

"Why's that?"

"Because," he says, stopping to pull her around so he can look into her eyes. "I'm hoping you'll be here a lot."

Gen smiles shyly, reaching up to plant a kiss on his cheek. Gilbert looks at her confusedly, prompting a small chuckle from the woman.

"We'll see." She says, pulling him into the restaurant. The maître d' guides them to the table where Ludwig and Feliciano are seated and looking at menus. Gilbert thanks the man and pulls out Gen's chair for her, scooting it up to the table when she sits.

They look over the menu for a few minutes, the waiter coming up to ask for drink orders. Ludwig and Gilbert order beer, Feliciano orders a glass of wine, and when the waiter asks what Gen wants with a wry smile, she states that water will be fine.

Gilbert glances at her worriedly, but she dismisses his unease with a disarmingly sweet smile. He chuckles, shaking his head and looking back to the menu. The waiter returns with drinks, setting Gen's down last. In addition to the water, he sets down a flute of champagne before her, and she looks up at him, confused.

"It's on the house," he says, that smile returning. She blushes.

"Merci," she whispers, not noticing the annoyed look on Gilbert's face. Gilbert is about to say something, but receives a sharp kick in the shin from across the table. He grunts and glares at his brother, who shakes his head in disapproval. Sighing, Gilbert nods.

They place their orders with the man, who keeps darting his eyes back to Gen. Filet mignon for the brothers, some sort of fancy pasta for the Italian, and Gen orders fish.

They chat lightly while they wait for their dinner, Feliciano talking animatedly about pasta, prompting Ludwig to, several times, smack his upside the head to quiet him down. Gen giggles, enjoying their antics. The champagne is excellent, and quite expensive from what Gen can tell from the taste. She sighs and takes a drink, mentally resigning to fend off any more advances from the waiter.

Gilbert notices her sigh, his brows knitting with worry. He tells himself that she does look tired, and tries not to say anything. He takes her hand instead, smiling when she looks at him. She smiles too, looking at him through seemingly exhausted sapphire eyes.

Food arrives, and Gen offers a curt thanks to the waiter, who asks if there's anything else he can do for her. She declines shortly, earning a disheartened, but still determined, look from him.

They eat, Gen barely touching her food, but participating eagerly in the dinner conversation. She learns about what Lovino is doing these days, remembering the little spitfire from all those years ago. She's also generally caught up on what everyone has been up to since she last saw them. Of course, she avoids mentioning Holy Roman Empire, remembering Gilbert's extreme unrest the last time it came up. She can't help but notice the similarities between the little tyke and Ludwig as she watches him talk.

Gilbert requests the check, arguing with his brother over who's paying for dinner, and they end up settling it with an arm wrestle, which Ludwig wins almost effortlessly. Grumbling, Gilbert stands up and walks towards the back of the restaurant saying something about needing to use the restroom like it's nobody's business.

Taking the opportunity, the waiter brings over the check, and a slice to decadent-looking chocolate cake, setting it before Gen with a smile. She thanks him, uncomfortable under his stare. He nods, lingering before walking away.

Sighing, Gen takes the plate and places it on the other side of the table in front of Feliciano, who squeals with delight.

"Really, Miss Genovefa? That waiter was really nice to give that to you!" He says, looking to her for permission.

"Oui. Bon apatite, ma petite Italie." She smiles, taking the opportunity to dig into her purse and pop a mint in her mouth. The Italian grins, digging into the cake, getting frosting all over his face.

"Who the hell gave that one cake?" Gilbert asks, coming back to the table.

"The nice waiter man," Feliciano says, spewing chocolate crumbs across the table."

Gilbert sighs, the agitation clear on his face. Ludwig pays the check, throwing a napkin at Feliciano to and telling him to clean up the frosting with a grunt. They vacate the table and start towards the door.

"Gute nacht, schatz." The waiter says, passing them. He winks at Gen, who flushes. Gilbert opens the door for her, gesturing for her to go out and that he would be staying inside for a moment. She nods, zipping her jacket.

Looking around the restaurant, Gilbert spots the waiter in the back corner at the payment kiosk, handling the check for their dinner. Grabbing the man by his arm, he pulls him around the corner into the empty hallway by the bathrooms, shoving him against the wall with his arm pressed against the man's throat.

"Listen close, because I'm only going to give you one chance. That girl belongs to me. Not you. Me. You're lucky you still have the use of your legs. Got that?" Gilbert presses his arm harder on the man's throat, seething an inch from his face. The waiter nods, panic showing in his eyes.

"Good. I'm glad we understand each other." Gilbert releases the man, who drops to the ground, cradling his throat. He leaves the building, nearly running into Gen, who had ben waiting by the door.

"Is everything okay?" She asks, following him to the car.

"Ja. Just wanted to thank the waiter." He opens the car door for her, shutting it once she's in. He gets in the other side, buckling and taking her hand.

The ride back to Ludwig's is uneventful, if not enjoyable, thanks to Feliciano. They arrive back at the house and go inside, Gen parting with Gilbert, pecking him on the cheek and telling him she is going up to her room to take a shower. He nods, pulling off his shoes and watching her as she ascends the stairs.

Pulling off her clothes, Gen turns on the water of the massive, tiled walk-in shower, enjoying the steam on her face. She steps into the streams of water, the heat relaxing her muscles. She turns around to let it hit her back, nearly crying out when it hits the massive bruises across her shoulders. Mentally noting to be more careful, she finishes cleaning up and turns off the water, wrapping herself in a towel.

The bathroom mirror is fogged up, and she uses her palm to wipe clean a swatch, showing her face as she stands before it. The dark circles have returned to under her eyes, giving her the frightening resemblance to a skeleton. She shudders and exits the bathroom.

Gen unpacks her sweatpants and a camisole, dressing slowly as the aches begin to settle into her muscles and joints. When she's all clothed, she brushes her hair out, deciding to let it dry overnight. She makes her way downstairs, finding most of the living room lights off, and the space silent. Looking around, she shrugs to herself and decides to take a look outside at the backyard.

The moon is almost full, lighting up the large, fenced backyard. There's a pool to the right, and a patio to the far left, leaving a nice, open grassy space in the middle, a space that is currently occupied by a spread-out blanket, another sitting folded up to the side.

"Watch the stars with me, ja?' Gilbert says, coming up onto the deck. He's got a flashlight in his hand, though with the moon, he doesn't really need it. Gen smiles and nods, following him off the deck, the two padding in bare feet across the lawn to the blanket. She sits cross-legged in the middle, and Gilbert takes the other blanket in his hands, wrapping it around her.

"Merci," she says, snuggling into it. It smells so much like him, and she realizes that it's the comforter off of his bed. She blushes, and he sits down next to her, wrapping his arm around her. Wincing, Gen stifles a cry, successfully keeping Gilbert unaware.

They crane their necks, looking up at the perfectly clear sky. Gen leans her head on Gilbert's shoulder, closing her eyes. He looks down at her, smiling.

"I'm glad you're here, lieber." He says, kissing her forehead.

"Me too." Gen whispers, looking up at him. She stares into the deep crimson of his eyes, the moonlight reflected in them. He leans in, pressing his lips gently to hers, pulling her towards him. His hand finds her cheek, and she melts into him, deepening the kiss. The blanket falls away from her shoulders as he shifts her, moving her so she sits on his lap, straddling his outstretched legs.

She runs the tip of her tongue across his bottom lip, begging him for more. He obliges, slipping his tongue past her lips, and they fight for dominance. Gilbert eventually wins out, rolling so that he can gently place Gen onto the blanket, positioning himself next to her, but still close enough to press his body to hers.

Moving back to her lips, he kisses her fiercely, stopping only when she moves away for air. He looks down at her, breathless, watching her pale skin in the moonlight. Her chest is heaving, her cleavage deliciously displayed under the camisole.

Another peck on the lips from him before his lips travel down her jaw to just behind her ear, where he runs his tongue lightly across her skin, delighting in the way she squirms beside him. He smiles into her neck, planting kisses down to its base, where he licks and nips lightly.

Gen mewls, her hips subconsciously bucking into him, gaining a bigger smile from Gilbert. He wraps a hand around the side of her neck, pulling her head closer so he can capture her lips again.

Gen's hand finds its way into his hair, grabbing a fistful to pull on lightly, coaxing a low growl from Gilbert's lips against hers. Grinning, she pulls a little harder, her force having the desired effect. He shifts, fully covering her with his body. His weight bearing down on her is almost too much for her to handle, and she gasps.

"Schatz?" He whispers, looking at her breathlessly. "Are you all right?"

Gen nods, tears springing to her eyes. Her lower lip trembles, but she fights desperately to keep it in check. Gilbert, seeing this, slides off of her and cradles her to him, kissing the top of her head.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, squeezing her.

"Non, I'm sorry…" She trails off, mumbling something in something that sounds to Gilbert like French, but he knows it to be different, and he knows why.

"The memories again, ja?" He says, kissing her forehead.

Gen nods into his chest, her soft cries bursting into full-blown sobs, and she fists his shirt in her hand. Gilbert can only hug her closer, something like rage boiling in his chest.

"I would never do anything like that. I would never hurt you." He says, rubbing his palm up her arm.

"I know." Gen sobs, her body shaking. "I don't know…I don't know why this…I'm so sorry, Gil."

"Shh, don't be." Gilbert sighs internally, cursing the brutes whose memory turned her into this shivering wreck. He pulls the blanket up over her, tucking it in to keep her the warmest. He holds her until the shaking stops, and he looks at her, finding her fast asleep.

Wrapping her in the blanket, he pulls her up into his arms, making his way towards the deck and into the house. He carries her up the stairs and to her room, laying her gently onto the bed and puts a pillow under her head before making sure she's all covered and kissing her forehead.

"Gute nacht, mein lieber." He says, shutting the door behind him.


End file.
